One Last Chance
by Bae Belladonna
Summary: Blake Belladonna has been suffocated by her own demons for as long as she can remember. In a world of pure darkness, she has dedicated her life to hunting down the root cause of such destruction and bring an end to it. However, during a confrontation, she finds herself transported 8 years into the past where she has one last chance to right everything that went wrong.


**Okay so...yeah, hi! This is actually my very first RWBY fic. I've written other stuff under another username before but that's all in the past. This is actually inspired by a story I reada little while ago called Remnant's Reclaimer. If you haven't read it I highly suggest you go check it out. Mine is definitely going to be different though, especially since it's gonna be Monochrome! The world is so much better in black and white.**

 **I do have a tumblr at bae-belladonna,tumblr,com if you guys wanna follow me.**

 **Anyhow, thank you for taking the time to read this and I really do hope you like it!**

 _It wasn't supposed to happen this way..._

The harsh ringing is still present, sounding off like a loud continuous whine that only seeks to make one wince from the annoyance. The world appears to be in a grey haze, while images continue to dip in and out of focus. For a normal being, it would take a small amount of patience to wait and gather ones bearings before attempting to stand.

But for one Blake Belladonna, patience is most definitely not a virtue.

The smell of soot, ash and dust still fills her nostrils as she closes her eyes once more and groans. There is a sharp pinging in her side from where that… _that witch_ had singed her, but it's nothing that her aura can't heal in a matter of minutes or so. At least, that's what she assumes.

The last thing she remembers is that taunting voice, a voice that is melodic yet deadly in all of its nature. The same voice that she had been hunting for years on end. The same voice that ruined her life.

 _No._

The last thing she remembers is the fight. She remembers gripping Gambol Shroud with a tightness that had the veins angrily protruding from her hands. She remembers herself forgoing all tactical training and replacing her typical fighting style with one of blind rage and anger. _That's_ where she made her ultimate mistake.

She remembers being flung against a wall only to slump against the floor like a ragdoll. She remembers the witch, the slow click of her heels, and the gleam of a foreign attack. She remembers activating her semblance in a last ditch effort to survive before the witch attacked and everything faded to black.

Now, Blake finds the cracked concreate she was sprawled across replaced with smooth, cold flooring. The smell in the air is not that rancid soot and flame, but instead it's a cooler, crisper smell, as if she were…indoors?

Cracking an eye open, she is immediately assaulted by brightness which only serves to further the throbbing in her head. Despite the dull pain, she is able to sneak a glance at her surroundings. Large room, columns placed in strategic places around the room for support and aesthetic appeal. It all seems so familiar but from where?

Blake continues to mentally ponder her whereabouts when something suddenly grabs her attention.

"You think they're dead?"

"Well _obviously_ they aren't, seeing as we heard them groan about four seconds ago."

"Should we go get a professor?"

"I'm sure they can hear us…"

The sudden intrusion of voices snaps Blake to attention. Forcing aside her pain, she quickly rolls over into a crouched battle stance. She tightly grips the hilt of her weapon ready to take on any threatening opponents who dare to come at her. However, what she does find, is most definitely not what she was expecting.

Scanning the room's other occupants from left to right, she finds herself on the receiving end of four very different weapons, the one standing out the most being the complex red scythe that's about twice the size of its owner.

Silver, ice blue, and lilac eyes all regard her with widened curiosity, while the remaining, a pair of sharp azure eyes, is staring back at her with a slightly unsettled frown. It is then that Blake fully takes in the rest of this girl's appearance, everything from her form fitting vest to the subtly twitching bow atop her head.

 _"Holy shit…am I dead…"_

Team RWBY regards the hooded stranger with the utmost amount of caution. They were in the middle of practicing sparing and team attacks when there was a sudden explosion and the black coated stranger suddenly plopped down into the middle of the training room out of what appeared to be nowhere.

Due to the shadow their hood casts over their face, the four girls are prohibited from seeing the mysterious stranger's features. Remembering their training, they all keep their weapons poised at the ready against what may or may not be a threat.

"Uh, hi there." Ruby speaks up, resuming her role as team leader. "Are you lost, um…lost?"

Weiss sighs audibly at the poorly phrased question, just barely resisting the urge to hang her head and pinch the bridge of her nose.

"Whoever they are, they sure don't say much." Yang comments after a long beat of silence. It's then that she takes in Blake's rigid and immobile posture, almost as if she's been spooked into a statue. "Ah, you okay there partner?"

Blake however, simply doesn't respond. Instead, she continues to silently glare at the figure across the room who she can't help but feel like is returning her same glare with full force. However, that isn't what has her unsettled. It isn't the dark hood hiding all of their features, or the long leather coat that just barely avoids scraping the ground. It isn't the way that they stand at a ready position even while seeming to appear neutral and otherwise relaxed. What unsettles her most is the glint of the familiar weapon strapped to their back.

"Who _are_ you?" the Faunus teen speaks up firmly, ignoring the shocked looks from her teammates at the authority in her voice.

The stranger begins to step forward, reaching behind them as they remove their weapon from their back and gently rest it, sheath and all, against the palm of their hand. "Wouldn't you like to know kid…" the voice speaks lowly as a mirthless huff follows the statement.

"Where did you get that?" Blake asks, though her firm voice from before is slightly wavering at the sight of her own weapon in the possession of this stranger. It doesn't make any sense, why does this-this person have Gambol Shroud when it's clearly in her possession? She needs answers and she needs them now.

"Easy…I made it. Or should I say… _we_ made it." Gasps resound within the room as the newcomer finally pulls back their hood to reveal their face. A pair of cat ears twitch briefly at the newfound freedom from beneath the hood, while the golden eyes of the strange bore deeply into those of her younger self. "It's ours."

 **Like I said, first RWBY story so I apologize if it's rough. Feedback is much appreciated!**


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